Dragon's Prize-M rated exerpts
by Mrs.JohnReese
Summary: A potential collection of Smaug/Isilda one-shots to go alongside my already posted story Dragon's Prize. Readers beware: content involves smutty smut smut and spoilers. Ye have been warned! Please R&R if you are so inclined. Those things are my life's blood :)


**Hello! And welcome to a totally unexpected writing endeavor! I set out early this morning, planning on using my day off to post for Dragon's Prize, since it's been TWO WHOLE MONTHS since I last posted. But then everything went awry, and the smutty-buns attacked…and thus this little guy was born! I'll take this moment to warn all of you lovely readers that this posting is pretty spoiler-heavy for DP. So if that, or smut, or both aren't your thing, you probably ought to stop here.**

**If by chance they **_**are**_** your thing though, feel free to read on! And please don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts! I look forward to seeing how this is received!**

**Until next time…**

**MJR**

…

Isilda could not say how long she had waited. As quickly as her world had ended, it seemed a new one was waiting; promising much more than she may have ever dared to imagine. Every wound—every flash of pain she had endured both for her own mortal injuries, and those of the dragon had seemed to drag on; endless hours of torment and agony that the girl felt she would remember for decades to come. But all of that was worthless, now. Now, when fate had delivered her heart to her; though she had done nothing to deserve such relief.

_Smaug was alive_.

Not as a dragon. Though it had taken Isilda a moment to acknowledge that which stood before her very eyes; she knew that the dragon she had dwelt with for so long had died with the Lakeman's arrow. The arrow that's piercing blow still clawed within her chest; as a caged animal might against its captor. But even in spite of that wound—the wound that had threatened to tear her at the seams; her hope had been rekindled. Smaug lived.

_He would spend the rest of their eternity as a man…_

When first she saw him, walking with her father along the sands of the beach; she had frozen, not daring to believe what she observed. The two men had been talking, walking aimlessly together as though they had been friends for many a year. They did not see her; not at first. But almost as soon as _she_ had seen him, their eyes had met; and she knew.

_It was him_.

Though he now wore the garb of a mortal, the man beside her father held himself as so much more; his posture every bit as regal—as _serpentine_ as it had been before. Dark curls hung around angular cheekbones; the hard, unyielding muscle of his body shielded only by dark breeches and a loose flowing white shirt. But it was not the character of his form that triggered recognition within Isilda's heart; setting her ablaze with hope. It was his eyes. Golden. Burning.

A dragon's eyes.

The gaze that had so long held sway over her mind had returned; once again scalding her with a brand hotter than fire. And in the instant that it had taken her to become certain that this man _was, _in fact, the dragon she had been a companion to for so long, Isilda had forgone all sake of restraint; bolting down the small hillock she stood upon and hurling herself into his arms. A moment was spared where the dragon—no, the _man_—remained still; likely stunned by the force of the girl's smaller frame colliding with his own. But almost as soon as he had frozen, his arms were winding about Isilda's waist; pulling her close to his body as he ducked his head down to inhale her scent.

_Together at last_.

Isilda could not know how much time was passed in Smaug's embrace; her cheek tightly pressed against a warm chest, savoring the sound of his beating heart. Caught between believing herself to be in a dream; and _knowing _that she was very well awake, she simply remained as she was, only pulling back to look into the familiar gold of the eyes above her as Smaug spoke.

"_Isilda_" He whispered; her name falling from his lips as might a prayer "_My _Isilda."

Not bothering to fight against the sting of tears that rose, unbidden to her eyes, Isilda reached a tentative hand forward to brush against the man's cheek; her fingers cautious—trembling—as she grazed them against his skin. His eyes had fluttered shut at her touch, a low rumble escaping him as he slid a hand down to rest against her hip…and it was with a force of will that she did not know she possessed that she dropped her hand to rest against the cloth of his shirt; tearing her eyes away from him in favor of addressing her father.

"How is this possible?"

"How is _any _of this possible, dear one" He replied; the spark of amusement in his eyes catching his daughter off guard "It is not for us to question that which we have received."

"But-"

"_No_, my daughter" The man replied; a smile of understanding passing over his features at the way Isilda had begun to untangle herself from the man at her side "I would ask you not to question this. It is better simply to accept it."

_It is better simply to accept it_.

Those had been her father's words. Words that, even now, Isilda still did not understand. But as much as she desired an explanation—some sort of _logic_ behind why the one she loved against all better judgment had been returned to her—she was unable to avoid acknowledging her eagerness to simply absorb everything; savoring Smaug's presence rather than analyzing it.

_He was alive_. That was more than she ever dared to dream of.

With such thoughts in mind, Isilda turned from the small alcove then; tugging the fabric of her thin robe around her to ward off the chill in the air as she prepared to seek him out. Though she trusted her father had good intentions in wishing to speak with Smaug; the girl was not entirely willing to have him stolen from her for the entirety of the evening—something that stunned her inasmuch as it thrilled her as she found herself jumping at the sound of footsteps approaching from behind where she stood.

Savoring the sensation of warm arms encircling her waist once again, Isilda leaned back against the man's broad chest; a low hum falling from her lips as she felt warm breath against her ear.

"You waited for me."

"Did you expect me not to?"

There it was; that low rumble. A sound that reverberated through Isilda's blood and set fire to her veins. Though before, the dragon's voice had held similar sway over her senses, the girl was almost poignantly aware that his voice this time had more than just steel force of will. It was a brand. Hard and unyielding, yet holding the promise of so much _more_; if she simply reached out to take it. And how could she not? The two of them were bound together, perhaps now more than ever before.

_She was his. She always had been_.

Startled back into awareness by the gentle pressure Smaug applied to her hip to turn her around to face him; Isilda forced herself to meet his gaze, not able to withstand the trembling that rattled her frame as she placed a hand, palm flat, against his chest.

"I still dare not believe this" She whispered; leaning into the hand that Smaug brought up to brush against her cheek "What if I wake and you are taken away from me?"

"I will not be."

"You cannot know that" Isilda protested; pulling back from the man before her in spite of the nearly physical pain that such an act caused her "You cannot know-"

"I can" Smaug insisted; pulling the girl back to him and cupping her face in his hands—_such a lovely face_—"I _do_."

"How?"

Smiling at the all too familiar stubbornness in her tone, Smaug shook his head in utter amusement then; ducking down to brush his mouth against Isilda's, the taste of her igniting the same fire within him that he had experienced while watching her for so many years. He desired her. To say anything less would speak a lie. And though he, too, could not begin to fathom why fate had brought him here; the man was forced to admit that a far greater need than that for explanation weighed against his mind.

The need to claim _her_.

With such thought in mind, Smaug pressed his lips against the girl's cheek—her jawline—the pale skin of her neck; ever mindful of the way her heart fluttered within her chest at his advances. Always, her body called to his; needing the connection almost as fervently as he did.

_Who was he to resist such a calling_?

"Smaug-"

The plaintive call stalled the man in mid-movement, then; re-settling his attentions on the woman he so intently ravished as she peered up at him with equal measure of desire and caution in her gaze. Her eyes were blown wide, her cheeks flushed from his attentions. But her voice was strangely soft—subdued, as she spoke; her hands coming to toy with his fingers as she brought them down from around her face.

"What if this is a dream?"

"Then let me make it a good dream."

Before Isilda found the requisite words to reply, Smaug had once again captured her lips with his own; a faint growl leaving him at how easily she pinned herself to his larger frame as the last of her doubts and misgivings fell aside to grant priority to her own needs. The heat of him, pressing against her—surrounding her and scalding her to her bones was near to overwhelming as he prodded her backwards with one hand until the backs of her legs bumped gently against the bed she had earlier forsaken; causing a gasp to escape as the man hoisted her up and laid her back against the soft down of the sheets.

Not hesitating to hover over the girl beneath him, Smaug lowered his lips to Isilda's cheek; poignantly aware of how she had frozen momentarily at the implications behind their new stance. Brushing his mouth over the swell of her cheek, and trailing them down to her jawbone; the man that had once been so powerful found himself all but humbled at the low keen his actions drew from the young girl's lips, his hips pressing towards hers on instinct as he used one hand to trail down to the thin ties of her robe.

"Isilda-"

"Yes?"

"My pearl, I need to see you."

Smaug's voice was low—husky, as he pulled back in favor of gauging Isilda's reaction to his words; a low chuckle passing between his parted lips at the girl's answering reply.

"Have you gone blind?"

Ducking down to mouth at the exposed skin of the girl's neck, Smaug reveled in the sharp gasp his action elicited; tugging at the ties that barred her skin from his gaze even as Isilda arched towards him, his name passing from her lips as one delicate hand seized onto his bicep. Fueled by such contact, the man that had once been a great dragon hurried to expose the woman beneath him to his roaming gaze; once again finding himself taken aback by her beauty. As a dragon, he had numerous opportunities to observe her; drinking her in, but forced to do nothing to sate the desire her countenance sparked within him. But now, she was beneath him. Writhing and ever so clearly hungry for his touch.

She was a _dream_, and she was finally his.

Sliding a hand down to cup gently at Isilda's breast, Smaug let out a broken groan at her answering mewl; his lips once again seeking hers as he felt her smaller hands beginning to tug at his shirt. He could still feel the trembling wracking her body at his nearness—at what she must only perceive as a figment of her imagination. But beneath all of that, he could also feel her heart; pounding out her desires and striving to match his own. She _wanted _this. Needed it. Needed _him_.

Pulling back so that Isilda had easier access to the cloth of his shirt, Smaug bit back a groan as her hands fluttered against his skin; assisting her where necessary until he was free of the obstructive item and had tossed it to the side. Throughout the entire event, Smaug noted with no small amount of intrigue that Isilda's eyes had settled upon drinking him in; her hands tracing the hard plains of his chest and abdomen with a gentle reverence. Of course she must have expected such perfection, in the face of what she had known him to be before. But still that did not stop her from marveling at the sight of the man's body anyway; her mouth falling open as Smaug brought the hand that had been at her breast down to the junction of her thighs.

Growling at the rush of warmth that assailed his senses upon the connection of his fingers with sensitive skin, Smaug dipped his head down to deliver a sharp nip at Isilda's collarbone; relishing in the broken whimper that issued from her mouth as he spoke.

"Tell me what you need."

It was an order and a plea, combined; the force of his words unraveling Isilda's misgivings as she absently pressed her body closer to Smaug's. Where before, she had felt the pangs of nervousness at the thought of a coupling; now she simply acknowledged tangible need, its power arcing through her nerve endings and pooling in her stomach. And so it was that she opted against removing his hand from her folds; instead choosing to latch onto his wrist with an uncharacteristic boldness before whispering her reply.

"You" She hissed; her eyes desperate—pleading as she tilted her head back such that his roving lips might have better access to her neck "_All_ of you; _please_."

Those words—words of consent and untamable desire—had Smaug hardening almost instantly; the constriction of the trousers he wore becoming much too evident as he skimmed two fingers alongside her bud. Her assent had come more quickly than he might have imagined; particularly in the wake of their as yet unfathomable future. But that fact notwithstanding, Smaug was unable to deny himself the pleasure of claiming Isilda's body for his own, as he had already done with her mind and heart; a low groan emitting from between clenched teeth as he abandoned his torment of her center in favor of removing the last article of clothing that separated them.

Breath coming in short gasps, Isilda waited patiently as the man above her discarded his breeches; eyes blowing wide at the sight of his unmasked masculinity. Though it filled her with a sharp pang of utter need; she also found herself fighting against an equally potent feeling of apprehension, her tongue darting out to wet her lower lip as she unconsciously scooted backward on the bed. Her act of nervousness did not go unnoticed by Smaug, naturally; his eyes almost immediately locking onto hers as he registered her movements—and it was with every ounce of resolve Isilda possessed that she forced her hand forward, brushing the tips of her fingers against the head of his manhood, and watching as he hissed out a low curse.

Emboldened by his reaction, Isilda inched closer; still very much aware that his invasion of her body would be no small feat, even as her hand curled around his shaft and trailed light paths across the smooth skin. He was so warm. Hard, hot iron in her grasp. The girl was painfully aware that she was playing with fire; and yet she continued to stoke the flame. And unbeknownst to her, Smaug's hands had fisted in the sheets at his sides while her own hand moved in slow, cautious trails along his hardening member; her own arousal increasing exponentially almost in spite of her trepidation.

_How little she knew of how much she needed him_.

Absorbed in her ministrations, Isilda failed to observe the way in which Smaug's half-lidded eyes had opened fully once more; flames roiling in their depths as he watched her. It only took seconds for the man to manipulate her preoccupation to his favor—and he soon had her pinned beneath his larger frame yet again; a yelp leaving her as she felt evidence of his craving pressing insistently against her opening. She wanted this, and yet she feared she may not be able to endure it. A fact that must have made itself evident upon her features; as Smaug pulled back just enough to gaze upon her visage for a moment before speaking.

"I will not hurt you, my gem."

"To have it be painless is impossible" Isilda countered; reaching a hand out to brush against his cheek upon sensing his worry—his concern—"Do what you must; and I will manage."

Shaking his head, Smaug leaned down to brush his lips ever so gently against hers; rocking against her faintly and biting back a groan at the second rush of warmth that assaulted his movements. He would no sooner seek his own release at the cost of her pain than he would carve out her heart and put it on a spike.

_She had to know he would care for her_.

Determined to persuade her to see the level of caution he would take with her, the man pulled back then; replacing his masculinity with the gentle probing of his fingers as he slid a digit inside of her heat. As expected, the act had her arching towards him in surprise even as her eyes slid shut—and though the feel of her clenching around him tested his control to the very outer limits; _still _he resisted—a muted growl escaping as he added a second digit to join the first.

His actions had Isilda whimpering in seconds, her hips canting up to meet the pressure of his hand…the weight of his arousal resting insistently along the inside of her thigh as he did as best he could to prepare her. By his reckoning, she was ready; her body already acclimating to the invasion of his fingers as he explored her for his own delight. But he wanted _her _to acknowledge it. He needed _her _to say the words. To say she needed him; beyond the shadow of all doubt…

"Smaug—_please_."

"Please _what_?"

_He needed to hear her beg him for release_…

"I—I'm _ready_; just—_please_."

Wasting no time in granting Isilda her wish, Smaug removed his fingers from her warmth; once again settling his weight over her, and taking care to gently slide her legs farther apart to accommodate him. He could _feel _her body, crying out to him; demanding he respond to that need. And with such a call in mind, the man pressed against the cradle of her hips, more insistently this time; entering her heat and warmth gently—cautiously—and remaining vigilant of her expressions.

Smaug did not miss the subtle wince that stole across Isilda's features upon first entering her; his hand moving to brush a stray lock of hair away from her brow as he pressed a kiss against her nose—her cheek—her lips. She had frozen within his arms upon the first hints of his invasion, naturally; and he could not help but sense that such an act was only likely to cause her more pain, his mouth trailing light kisses across the skin of her face as he whispered:

"Relax, my Isilda. This will pass."

Nodding, the girl did her best to comply with Smaug's instruction; leaning up in favor of distracting herself from the faint stretching pressure of her inner walls, and pressing her mouth against the hollow at the base of his throat. His resultant groan had her shivering internally; pleased that she had wrought such a reaction in the midst of her own discomfort—only to find herself entirely startled as, with one last pulse of his hips, Smaug had entered her completely.

It was odd, acknowledging the sensations that spiraled like a rip tide through her body in that moment; pain mixing with something else entirely as she remained entirely still, and focused on taking shallow breaths. Smaug filled her to beyond completion; that could not be denied. And in an attempt at discerning what, exactly, could be gained from such a feeling, the girl opted for shifting her hips experimentally; a faint gasp escaping as she felt the friction of him within her body.

_Gods above…_

Fixating on recreating that sensation yet again, Isilda shifted ever so slightly; this time wringing a groan from Smaug's parted lips as he ducked his head down to rest upon her shoulder. It was all too evident that he was holding back; giving her time to adjust to this. But if the sparks zinging through her veins were any indication; restraint was the last thing Isilda wanted, now…

She wanted _more_.

"Smaug" She began; her voice cracking in mid-speech, and startling her for a moment before she was pressing forward with more determination than before "Please—I think—I think you need to _move_-"

Pulling back and watching her reactions intently, Smaug found himself fighting against a surge of primal glee as he ascertained that she meant for him to take her for his own, not withdraw; a fact that tore a broken groan from deep within his throat, his body already beginning to move within her as he savored how she felt around him. Her fire—her _warmth_ were far better than he may have ever been able to imagine; the smoothness of her inner muscles clinging to him and drawing him in as though she wished never to be separated again. Isilda was _his_, now; his and his alone. Her whimpers and cries of surprise and pleasure engulfed him, branding him with a claim as powerful as his own; and it was perhaps in an effort to sate the fervent desire that had lingered for so long within his own body and mind that he sped his movements still further, mindful that he was no longer causing Isilda pain as he registered her hands roving along the muscular expanse of his back.

"My pearl" He hissed; bending down to suck gently at her pulse point even as his hips continued to meet hers in a desperate drive for their release "You are _mine_, Isilda, now and forever."

Unable to voice her reply, the young girl chose instead to move one hand up to tangle in the wealth of dark curls that cascaded around Smaug's face; her back arching as the pace of his hips sped her further towards that end she so craved. It was as though he, and he alone could push her to this point; his body created for her alone. A fact that became ever more apparent as he seemed to read her thoughts; his movements slowing as he opted for tormenting her with every brush of skin on skin.

Gasping with each thrust that seemed to send sparks flying through her veins, Isilda forced herself to meet Smaug's golden gaze as he watched her watching him; the sudden connection of his fingers with her bud sending her over the edge with a cry of surprise as Smaug bent down to swallow her elation with his kiss. The sensation of her release—of her inner muscles clinging to him and rippling around him was enough to propel him into oblivion almost immediately; a growl ripping out from between clenched teeth as he pulsed within her sheath. Unprepared for the urgency of his own release; Smaug spent every ounce of control he possessed keeping his body from crashing down upon hers—his eyes almost immediately seeking to gauge her face as he waited for her to meet his gaze once more.

_He needed to ensure she was unharmed_.

Almost as if she sensed his thoughts, Isilda's eyes slowly fluttered open, then; the faint smile that lit her features nearly stopping Smaug's heart as she finally spoke, her voice hushed—

"If I am yours, than you also are _mine_."

….

**Well there you have it! The end of the segment! I hope you enjoyed it, and thank you in advance for taking the time to read! Feel free to let me know what you think, and if you would like to see more!**

**MJR**


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